<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>cold flames by ghostfaeries</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917457">cold flames</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfaeries/pseuds/ghostfaeries'>ghostfaeries</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne-centric, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne Have a Good Relationship, Jason Todd-centric, Kid Jason Todd, Minor Character Death, Survivor Guilt, Temporary Character Death, Time Skips, Weddings, for part of it at least, its jason and bruces parents its one of those fics folks, the jaylad nickname bc that makes me soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:20:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfaeries/pseuds/ghostfaeries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Remember when I did this for you when you were a kid? Ever since that first time, you refused to tie your own tie. You insisted I do it for you."</p><p>Jason snorted. “I was a little shit who didn’t know how to ask for attention back then.”</p><p>Bruce smiled at the memory. “I did it with love."</p><p>~</p><p>Five times a Wayne ties his son's tie</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alfred Pennyworth &amp; Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne &amp; Martha Wayne &amp; Thomas Wayne, Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>397</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cold flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to Jason!!! Love you baby boy &lt;333</p><p> Impulsively wrote this fic two days ago, I'd actually planned a set of drawings but I didn't have enough time to finish them, so good thing I have this</p><p>Enjoy &lt;3</p><p>~</p><p>Content warnings: this fic deals with both Bruce's parents' and Jason's death so be warned for that. There's a mention of a gun in scene 1 and some blood but I think that's it. Let me know if you need something else tagged I'd be happy to</p><p>DISCLAIMER: please do not interact with this fic in any way if you ship Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Damian or Duke with each other as this makes me very uncomfortable as someone with siblings, thank you</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p><p>“Bruce? Are you ready to go?” </p><p>Dad was standing in the doorway, fully dressed, coat and all. Bruce was still fiddling with his tie, his small fingers clumsily trying to tie it properly. </p><p>“Almost, Dad.” </p><p>Dad laughed. The sound made something in Bruce’s chest feel warm. “Need some help with that, buddy?” </p><p>Bruce pouted and held the tie out for him. “Please.” </p><p>Dad kneeled in front of him and took the tie from his hand. He expertly tied it around Bruce’s neck. “There you go. Now, let’s go, your mother is waiting.” He held out his hand and Bruce eagerly took it, excited to get to spend an evening with his parents. Both of them, and especially Dad, were often busy with work, though they tried to make time for him as often as they could. They’d been on a business trip for a week, and today they’d finally come home. </p><p>The two of them walked down the hall to the front door, where Mom and Alfred were already waiting for them. Alfred drove them to the cinema, Bruce giving him a wave when he left the car. </p><p>“Bye, Alfred!” </p><p>“Have fun at the theatre, Master Bruce,” Alfred said. </p><p>“Thanks, Alfred!” </p><p>“I’ll prepare some hot chocolate when you get home. Now, run along, lad.” </p><p>Bruce offered him a quick grin and joined his parents. They both took one of his hands. A soft glow travelled through his body, a feeling of safety encasing him. </p><p>It was a good day, Bruce decided. </p>
<hr/><p>The gun shots were loud in the dark. The thuds of his parent’s bodies hitting the ground were so, so soft. </p><p>It had all happened so fast. One moment, Bruce had been happily chattering away about the movie they’d just watched, walking in between his parents. He’d suggested a shortcut, so they could be home quicker for Alfred’s hot chocolate. The next moment, there had been a gun pointed at them. </p><p>“No!” His mom had screamed. “Not him!” </p><p>She’d shoved him behind her, shielding him with her body. Then, the gun went off, once, twice, and they were gone. Bruce sank to his knees in front of his mother. Her eyes were distant. Like she was looking right through him. </p><p>“Mom? Mom!” He shook her shoulder, desperate for a sign of life. Nothing happened. She still had that blank, empty look in her eyes. </p><p>He turned to his dad. His suit was darker than it had been before. His eyes were equally vacant, staring up at the starless sky. </p><p>Bruce’s vision was getting blurry, his parents getting hazy. He tried to wipe away the tears, but only left a streak of red behind. He looked down at his hands. He hadn’t noticed the blood on them until now. </p><p>Bruce had thought his tie was the colour of his mom’s roses when he’d picked it out earlier. Now, the red just reminded him of blood splattered on stone. </p><p>People arrived on the scene. Bruce barely noticed. He was staring at his red stained hands. If it was his mom’s or his dad’s blood, he didn’t know. Maybe both. </p><p>A hand landed on his shoulder, trying to pull him away. A cry tore out of Bruce’s throat. “No!” He clung to his mother’s corpse, refusing to let go. The hand fell away. </p><p>There were tens of people milling around him, but Bruce felt more alone than ever. They were carrying lights with them, illuminating the alleyway. The dark fled from the alley to Bruce, settling into his chest, cold as ice and sharp as diamond, clinging to him like a cape of shadows. </p><p>“Bruce!” Alfred came running, shaking off police officers who tried to prevent him from entering the crime scene. He knelt down in front of Bruce, quickly looking him over for injuries. </p><p>“A-Alfred,” Bruce choked out. “They- Mom- Dad-” </p><p>“I know, lad.” Alfred took him in his arms, gently pressing Bruce’s face in his shoulder. “Don’t look.” </p><p>“It’s my fault,” Bruce whispered, barely audible against the fabric of Alfred’s coat. “I told them to go through here. It’s my fault.” </p><p>“No, my boy.” Alfred stroked his hair. “It’s not your fault. It’s that despicable man’s fault. He did this. Not you. You bear no blame.” </p><p>Bruce just shook his head as he let himself be led away, a cold nestling in his heart. The little core of warmth that had been housing there before stayed with the quickly cooling bodies of his parents, their ghosts settling on his shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>2.</p><p>This stupid piece of fabric was going to be the death of him. </p><p>Jason was struggling with his tie. Bruce and Alfred had insisted he wear a suit to this dumb gala. Jason didn’t understand why he even had to go. He was just some street rat Bruce had taken in. He still didn’t quite get why. To look good in front of the other socialites maybe? </p><p>Anyhow, he had to fix this damn tie. He’d never worn one before and he couldn’t figure out how to make it look like Alfred’s elegant handiwork. He hadn’t wanted to bother him, because they probably expected him to be able to do this stuff himself. </p><p>Jason’s work looked more like a knot than anything resembling a tie. He sighed. He really didn’t want to bother Alfred, or worse, Bruce. They had their hands full enough already, they didn’t need to have to waste their time on him as well. </p><p>A knock sounded on the door. Bruce and Alfred never entered his room without permission. He was glad for that. When he first came to live in the manor, he’d locked his door whenever he was in his room. At night, he’d put a chair against it as well. Just in case. </p><p>But Bruce and Alfred had never forced their way in, and they always respected his answer when they asked to come in, even if he said no. </p><p>“The door’s unlocked,” He called out. </p><p>The door swung open and Bruce took a look at the sorry state of his tie and snorted. "Not very used to suits, are you?" </p><p>"Are you kidding?" Jason said. "This is the most expensive thing I've ever worn. It’s probably more than my rent used to be. Kind of afraid that if I spill something on it, you'll kick me out or something." He laughed but it sounded hollow and forced, and there was real fear hidden behind it. </p><p>Bruce kneeled in front of Jason so they were eye level. "I'm going to put my hand on your shoulder now, okay?" Bruce knew Jason wasn't comfortable with touch generally. That's what happened when the only touch you knew was rooted in pain. Once Bruce realised this, he'd begun to ask Jason for permission to touch him. </p><p>Jason nodded but didn’t say anything. Bruce put his hand down. Jason froze for a moment, but relaxed again quickly. He didn’t flinch when Bruce touched him, not anymore. </p><p>“I would never kick you out. Ever.” Bruce’s voice was soft and careful, as if Jason was a scared animal, ready to bolt at the smallest hint of danger. “You’re more important than any material thing, Jason.” </p><p>“But-” </p><p>“There’s no but. I care about you, Jaylad. You’re unbelievably important to me.” </p><p>He was right, Jason couldn’t believe it. But he nodded anyway. </p><p>Bruce reached for his tie. Jason let him. “Here, let me.” </p><p>Bruce unknotted the tie carefully and redid it properly with gentle hands. “There we go.” </p><p>Jason expected him to leave immediately after, but Bruce stayed where he was, sitting in front of him. </p><p>“I actually came here because I wanted to ask you something.” </p><p>Jason eyed him warily. “Okay.” </p><p>“You know Dick was my ward first, and then I adopted him later, right?” </p><p>Jason nodded. Where was he going with this? </p><p>“Well... I wanted to ask you if you’d let me adopt you.” </p><p>Jason’s brain short-circuited. “What.” </p><p>Bruce smiled nervously. “You don’t have to say yes, of course, if you don’t want to. You’d still be allowed to live here, there’s no conditions. I just thought... Jason, I’ve come to see you as my son. You don’t have to ever see me as a parental figure, I can be your guardian if that’s what you want. But I love you and I want to adopt you.” </p><p>Jason was an expert in noticing when adults were lying. It had been a necessary skill on the streets. Right now, he couldn’t detect anything but the truth in Bruce’s voice and eyes. </p><p>Still, he had to ask. </p><p>“Really? Me?” </p><p>Bruce’s eyes softened. “Really. You” </p><p>Jason, usually so eloquent, was struggling to find his words. He hadn’t been expecting this. At all. Suddenly, his ability to speak returned and the words tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could give permission. </p><p>“Yes. Yes, please, I want you to adopt me.” </p><p>He couldn’t bring himself to regret them, not when Bruce smiled at him with those gentle eyes and drew him in for an embrace, and Jason felt warm all over. </p><p> </p><p>3.</p><p>Jason’s skin looked unnaturally pale against the ebony of the casket, makeup covering the bruises that would never heal. His eyes were closed, and Bruce knew he wouldn’t ever get to see that blue again, shimmering with excitement, or joy, or anger. Bruce would take an angry Jason, eyes spitting blue flames at Bruce, burning everything in their wake, over this lifeless, soulless Jason. His eyes had been open when Bruce had found him, though they couldn’t see. Gone was the fire, replaced with a cold sharper than ice. Bruce had wanted to look away. He’d gently closed them for him, his skin already getting cold. </p><p>Bruce gripped the tie in his hand tighter. It was Bat patterned. Jason had given it to him last Christmas. He’d meant it as a joke, but Bruce had worn it at the next gala anyway. The grin on Jason’s face when he saw it had been worth Oliver’s jeers. </p><p>“Bruce.” Alfred’s gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to do this.” </p><p>“No. I want to do it. He’s-” Bruce choked up, the words getting stuck in his throat as tears filled his eyes. “He was- <em>is </em>my son. I need to do it.” </p><p>Alfred nodded solemnly. “I understand.” </p><p>“Could I- could I have a moment alone with him?” </p><p>Alfred’s eyes were dark with grief, his usual stoic façade having fallen. “Of course.” Before he left, he drew Bruce into a hug. Bruce hid his face in his shoulder, like he used to do when he was eight and was visited by ghosts at night, silently screaming at him,<em> why, why would he lead them there, why did he kill them</em>. Those ghosts had now taken a different shape, that of a fifteen year old boy with a mischievous grin and bright eyes. This ghost wasn’t silent, and Bruce could hear every scream he imagined had come out of the boy’s mouth, every plea, begging for his father. His father who never came. </p><p>Alfred let go and walked out of the room. Bruce was alone with his ghosts once more. </p><p>Bruce looked at the tie again. Jason would’ve laughed if he knew. Which was exactly why Bruce had chosen this one. He knew Jason wouldn’t have liked wearing a suit, he’d never gotten totally used to them, had always said they were stuffy and too tight, but this way, he’d at least have something of his own attached to it. Something of Bruce’s. Maybe it was selfish to want Jason to have something of him with him in death. Bruce didn’t care. He wanted Jason to have something familiar and safe with him, wherever he was now. </p><p>He tied the tie, careful to avoid touching Jason’s skin. He knew it’d be cold, too cold for him to handle. He wanted to remember Jason as he’d been in life. Warm and bright. Not as this- this icy, stiff body. It was merely an empty shell, a husk of his son.  </p><p>Bruce closed the casket slowly. This was the last time he’d get to see his son, he knew. His last moments with him, and they were cold, a chill coming from deep within Bruce’s bones, or maybe his heart. So unlike the raging fire Jason had been. He’d been like a forest fire, wild and untameable, gripping everything in its heat. An uncontrollable storm. </p><p>But he was also like a candle flame, small and fragile, having to be nurtured carefully so he wouldn’t snuff out. </p><p>And sometimes, he was like a hearth. Warm and soothing, the gentle flickering of his flames lighting a soft fire in Bruce’s heart, melting away all the ice encased pain whenever he was around. </p><p>At first, Bruce had been afraid to burn himself, or worse, Jason. He couldn’t let him get close, couldn’t get comfortable with his affections. Bad things happened to those Bruce loved. But over time, Bruce had realised Jason needed him. He didn’t need Batman, he needed<em> Bruce</em>. He needed attention and affection and love. Bruce could give that to him. <em>Wanted t</em>o give that to him. He’d grown to love him like a son, and maybe, if he were being optimistic and hopeful, Jason had come to see him as a father as well. </p><p>And now, that fire had been snuffed out, just like that. Bruce had been right after all. Don’t get too close, or his frozen heart would smother you. </p><p>Bruce used to think losing a parent was the worst thing that could happen to someone. Now he knew losing a child was so, so much worse. </p><p>Bruce didn’t regret giving Jason his love, even though it had burnt him in the end. It had been worth it, for however long it had lasted. </p><p>He let his hand rest on the coffin for a moment longer. If he fooled himself, he could imagine that, for a moment, the wood was slightly warm, as if there was still a flame burning in Jason’s body. Bruce shook his head at himself softly. It was foolish to think like that. Jason was- Jason was gone. His fire had been too strong, too bright, and he’d burnt out. </p><p>The boy in the coffin was not Jason, was not his son. Jason was gone and he’d taken his flame with him, leaving a cold, cold body. Bruce hoped that wherever he was, he was at peace. He hoped Jason could forgive him for not being there for him. Bruce certainly couldn’t forgive himself. It had been his fault. It was his fault Jason was gone and it was his fault his parents were dead. His fault. He had been the one to suggest the alleyway. He had been the one who didn’t arrive in time. It was his fault they were gone. It was his weight to bear. </p><p>His hand slid from the coffin, the blood on it invisible but ever present. When he spoke, his voice was soft, his words only intended for a boy that was not here. </p><p>“Goodbye, Jaylad. I love you.” </p><p>Bruce walked away from the coffin holding his son’s body, cold once again. </p><p> </p><p>4.</p><p>Today was the day. Jason’s first interview since being declared legally alive again. Bruce had spun a tale of everyone thinking Jason was dead, but that in actuality had been kidnapped and held captive for years before escaping. Jason had thought it was a load of bull, but the press had lapped it up. His interview today was just with Uncle Clark thankfully, but Jason was still nervous. It had been so long since he’d given an interview, over six years, that he wasn’t sure he still knew how to pull it off. </p><p>“Jason? Clark’s here.” Bruce’s voice </p><p>“I’m almost done. Come in,” Jason called back. He was wearing a suit, his tie still hanging loose around his neck. </p><p>He never did get the chance to learn how to properly tie one. </p><p>"Hey, uh, B?" Jason said when he walked in. He was fiddling with his tie, refusing to look Bruce in the eye. "Would you-" </p><p>Bruce’s brow softened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course, Jaylad. Come here." </p><p>They stood in silence as Bruce deftly did his tie.  </p><p>Then Bruce said, “Remember when I did this for you when you were a kid? Ever since that first time, you refused to tie your own tie. You insisted I do it for you.” </p><p>Jason snorted. “I was a little shit who didn’t know how to ask for attention back then.” </p><p>Bruce smiled at the memory. “I did it with love.” </p><p>Jason rolled his eyes, but smiled anyway. </p><p>They lapsed into silence for a bit while Bruce finished tying his tie. When he was done, he broke the silence. “Are you nervous?” </p><p>Jason scoffed. “Psh, me, nervous? No, of course not.” </p><p>Bruce levelled him with a stare. Jason wilted. “Okay, fine, maybe a little.” </p><p>Bruce gave both his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You have nothing to worry about. Clark won’t ask invasive questions.” </p><p>“I know. It’s just... I’ve been out of the public eye for so long. I don’t know if I can still handle it.” Jason averted his gaze, brows pinched. </p><p>“Jason. Jaylad, look at me.” Jason looked. “You’ll do fine. You’re strong, you can do this. I know you can. And remember, I’m here for you the entire time, and so is the rest of the family. You’re not alone in this. You’ll never be alone again.” </p><p>Jason’s brows relaxed as he blinked hard a few times. “Thanks, Dad.” </p><p>Bruce smiled back, giving Jason’s crown a caress. “Come on. You’ll do great.” </p><p>Jason let himself be led to the lounge where Clark would be waiting for him, Bruce’s hand a warm, comforting weight on his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>5.</p><p>"B, I'm 27, I can tie my own tie now," Jason complained as Bruce fiddled with his tie. </p><p>Bruce smiled and tugged at it a little harder than necessary, just to bother Jason. “I know.” He continued tying it.</p><p><em>“B. </em> </p><p>Bruce smirked. “Yes, Jason?” </p><p>“You don’t have to do this, you know.” </p><p>“I do know. But I want to do it.” Bruce ruffled Jason’s carefully styled hair. Jason slapped his hand away. </p><p>“Dad! That took Alfred an hour!” </p><p>“Oops.” Bruce didn’t sound sorry at all. </p><p>Jason glared at him. Bruce just chuckled. “Stay still, I’m almost done.” </p><p>Jason rolled his eyes. “Why did ya wanna do it anyway?” </p><p>Bruce got a fond look in his eyes. “My second son is getting married. I wanted to honour our little tradition.” </p><p>Jason grinned and lightly punched him on the arm. “You’re a sap.” </p><p>Bruce smiled back and finished tying the tie. “I am.” </p><p>He smoothed out some of the creases in Jason’s suit and adjusted the red rose in his breast pocket. “Ready?” </p><p>Jason nodded and smiled. “Ready.” </p><p>Bruce offered his arm. Jason took it. Together, they walked down the aisle. Roy was waiting for Jason at the end, wide grin on his face. </p><p>They reached the end of the aisle. Bruce turned to Jason. He embraced him like he was fourteen again. Even though Jason was taller than him now, he’d always be Bruce’s little boy. Bruce pressed a kiss to his forehead. </p><p>“Go, Jaylad.” </p><p>As he gave his son away to the man he loved, tears filled Bruce’s eyes. He was so, so proud of him. Jason had had such a difficult life, he’d been in pain for so long. When he came to Bruce, he was just a scared, traumatized little boy. Now, he was a grown adult, still traumatized, but healing. He’d made it through all that heartache, had overcome all his struggles and was working to be a better man every single day. </p><p>Bruce knew Roy had played a big part in that, and he was grateful for it. He'd been there for Jason in his darkest times, when he refused to even let his family come near him. And Jason had been there for Roy when he’d relapsed, had cared for him through his most difficult moments. They were a good match. </p><p>Bruce smiled at the long locks of fiery red hair tumbling over Roy's shoulders, only slightly tamed by his ponytail, then looked at Jason’s mess of curls. A good match indeed. </p><p>Bruce sat down in the front row next to Alfred. Alfred squeezed his shoulder once and handed him a tissue. Bruce dabbed at his eyes as he watched Jason and Roy exchange their vows. </p><p>The fire was lit once more, and it was burning brighter than ever. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed &lt;3</p><p>My DC blog: autistic-damian-wayne</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>